“All I really want is to be loved, but I feel very uncomfortable whenever anyone tries to love me.”
-– Sierra Sinn, a former porn star trying to leave the industry, as interviewed on XXXChurch.com
Monday, July 30, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
The Holy Spirit and Fire
I’m physically tired and mentally confused, but alive to God.
Being alive to God doesn’t mean life is easy.
I met with the pastor last Sunday for the purpose--as I remarked to Jessica, tongue-in-cheek--of “bad-mouthing his hired goon.” His associate pastor loves God. He’s also a wimp, a spiritual sham, and a bastion of regurgitated confusion, and I want to confront him about it. I’ve tried to arrange a meeting with him but he’s avoiding me, probably because he’s a bit fearful of subjection to the Berean nobility. So I met with his mentor, the lead pastor, to delineate my concerns. He agreed with most of what I said, telling me we’d have to arrange a conference with the three of us so I can get it all out and reality can sunrise on this dude’s denial.
Week later, nothing else has been said about it.
Then there’s my journals. I shut down my Journalspace writings, and I redirected the URL to this one. The purpose was to shake off the readers, the people with interest. Which sounds odd, but I’ve done it several times before whenever a journal becomes problematic. I’d grown accustomed to using my Journalspace account for fun, just goofy writing and silly stuff. I use my Blogspot to spout my diary-ah: it’s just a regular journal for catching all the little happenings in life.
But last week I realized I’m too Christian to be acceptable to the world and too worldly to be acceptable to the Church. I’ve never really tried to censor myself, not when I was 15 and first started writing in a journal, not now. I prefer using web space and programs to spew my personal drivel, just because it’s easier. So I guess I’ll just try to keep my readership to a minimum.
Jessica seemed saddened by the prospect of my not writing silly stuff anymore. I am always making her laugh with my crazy thoughts, toilet humor, and wholly inappropriate anecdotes.
I don’t know. I’m confused. I woke up to this strange, funny arrangement--I didn’t create it. How do I change the way I perceive things? Should I even seek that? After working very hard for years to “find my voice,” practicing for hours and hours in the pursuit of something that sounds real and natural, should I choke it? How can I ever paint an accurate picture of life on this earth without using some dark colors?
Anyways.
Scott wanted me to get together with his wife and an old friend of ours who’s in town this weekend, but I didn’t want to. I don’t have anything in common with those guys anymore. Sometimes I feel guilty about not doing more to keep that relationship alive, but then I wonder whether the “growing apart” isn’t just part of the story of grace. My whole thought process--the aim of my life--is God-ward. Scott likes to talk movies and TV and pop culture and all that. He spends his free time eating, watching TV, and surfing the net. None of those things are necessarily wrong, but in his case they are very near idolatrous. Whenever we’ve gotten together in the past several years, that’s the only thing he has to talk about. It’s just empty to me. Eventually I’ll have to just spill the beans, like I will with the associate pastor.
Stress, baby. Burn, fire burn.
I think fire and separation are going to be themes in my next talk to the church, which will be on August 12.
And now also the axe is laid unto the root of the trees: therefore every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance: but he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear: he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost, and with fire: Whose fan is in his hand, and he will throughly purge his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner; but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire. Matthew 3:10-12
Being alive to God doesn’t mean life is easy.
I met with the pastor last Sunday for the purpose--as I remarked to Jessica, tongue-in-cheek--of “bad-mouthing his hired goon.” His associate pastor loves God. He’s also a wimp, a spiritual sham, and a bastion of regurgitated confusion, and I want to confront him about it. I’ve tried to arrange a meeting with him but he’s avoiding me, probably because he’s a bit fearful of subjection to the Berean nobility. So I met with his mentor, the lead pastor, to delineate my concerns. He agreed with most of what I said, telling me we’d have to arrange a conference with the three of us so I can get it all out and reality can sunrise on this dude’s denial.
Week later, nothing else has been said about it.
Then there’s my journals. I shut down my Journalspace writings, and I redirected the URL to this one. The purpose was to shake off the readers, the people with interest. Which sounds odd, but I’ve done it several times before whenever a journal becomes problematic. I’d grown accustomed to using my Journalspace account for fun, just goofy writing and silly stuff. I use my Blogspot to spout my diary-ah: it’s just a regular journal for catching all the little happenings in life.
But last week I realized I’m too Christian to be acceptable to the world and too worldly to be acceptable to the Church. I’ve never really tried to censor myself, not when I was 15 and first started writing in a journal, not now. I prefer using web space and programs to spew my personal drivel, just because it’s easier. So I guess I’ll just try to keep my readership to a minimum.
Jessica seemed saddened by the prospect of my not writing silly stuff anymore. I am always making her laugh with my crazy thoughts, toilet humor, and wholly inappropriate anecdotes.
I don’t know. I’m confused. I woke up to this strange, funny arrangement--I didn’t create it. How do I change the way I perceive things? Should I even seek that? After working very hard for years to “find my voice,” practicing for hours and hours in the pursuit of something that sounds real and natural, should I choke it? How can I ever paint an accurate picture of life on this earth without using some dark colors?
Anyways.
Scott wanted me to get together with his wife and an old friend of ours who’s in town this weekend, but I didn’t want to. I don’t have anything in common with those guys anymore. Sometimes I feel guilty about not doing more to keep that relationship alive, but then I wonder whether the “growing apart” isn’t just part of the story of grace. My whole thought process--the aim of my life--is God-ward. Scott likes to talk movies and TV and pop culture and all that. He spends his free time eating, watching TV, and surfing the net. None of those things are necessarily wrong, but in his case they are very near idolatrous. Whenever we’ve gotten together in the past several years, that’s the only thing he has to talk about. It’s just empty to me. Eventually I’ll have to just spill the beans, like I will with the associate pastor.
Stress, baby. Burn, fire burn.
I think fire and separation are going to be themes in my next talk to the church, which will be on August 12.
And now also the axe is laid unto the root of the trees: therefore every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. I indeed baptize you with water unto repentance: but he that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear: he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost, and with fire: Whose fan is in his hand, and he will throughly purge his floor, and gather his wheat into the garner; but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire. Matthew 3:10-12
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Today, like the start of most days, I went to work with dread tempered by acceptance. They let a trainee ride with me as a helper--a real yahoo, but any help is appreciated.
While moving some empty cases from a store in Bridgeville, a small package fell out of a case to the floor at my feet. I recognized it immediately as a pornographic DVD--the kind magazines are inserting as a bonus these days because the internet has caused magazine sales to slump. The thing was porno pink and had the outline of a woman’s silhouette and “Hustler Video” emblazoned across the back. Kinky, exciting stuff.
I picked it up and it felt heavy like Sauron’s ring, or maybe Sennacherib’s letter to Hezekiah.
I put it in my pocket, left my helper in the cooler, and walked outside. It was 8:30. I phoned Pastor John’s cell phone. In one breath I blurted,
“Hey Pastor John I don’t have much time to talk but I was just moving empty cases of Pepsi and a pornographic DVD fell out onto the floor right in front of me and I took possession of it so no kids or anyone would find it and I’m going to take it home for Jessica to destroy. I just wanted to let someone know to take some of the edge off the temptation I feel.”
He said okay, and that was it. Simple. I thought about it once or twice during the day but for the most part the glittery satanic ploy was impotent, and I think it was because I quickly got someone else in the know.
I find it somewhat encouraging that I’ve been targeted by the enemy of souls in a way that’s obvious and relates specifically to my area of weakness. Makes me feel like I’m on the right path.
While moving some empty cases from a store in Bridgeville, a small package fell out of a case to the floor at my feet. I recognized it immediately as a pornographic DVD--the kind magazines are inserting as a bonus these days because the internet has caused magazine sales to slump. The thing was porno pink and had the outline of a woman’s silhouette and “Hustler Video” emblazoned across the back. Kinky, exciting stuff.
I picked it up and it felt heavy like Sauron’s ring, or maybe Sennacherib’s letter to Hezekiah.
I put it in my pocket, left my helper in the cooler, and walked outside. It was 8:30. I phoned Pastor John’s cell phone. In one breath I blurted,
“Hey Pastor John I don’t have much time to talk but I was just moving empty cases of Pepsi and a pornographic DVD fell out onto the floor right in front of me and I took possession of it so no kids or anyone would find it and I’m going to take it home for Jessica to destroy. I just wanted to let someone know to take some of the edge off the temptation I feel.”
He said okay, and that was it. Simple. I thought about it once or twice during the day but for the most part the glittery satanic ploy was impotent, and I think it was because I quickly got someone else in the know.
I find it somewhat encouraging that I’ve been targeted by the enemy of souls in a way that’s obvious and relates specifically to my area of weakness. Makes me feel like I’m on the right path.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Friday, July 20, 2007, 4:45 A.M.
Wednesday night’s meeting with the guys was interesting. Some issues were raised that have the power to bring some much-needed change to our church. Nothing new, really. Same stuff I’ve been ranting about to my poor wife every Sunday for ten years, except it looks like God is stirring the hearts of others to hunger for more out of the church experience--enough discomfort and frustration, hopefully, to get us to discuss it and be open to the responsibilities lasting change must bring. But more about that later.
After the meeting, Joel K came up to me to tell me he thought the Lord had given him a message intended for me. In a nutshell he said he believed God said that He’s going to bring me into a job that I like, that provides for my family, and that allows me to move more in my ministry. It was encouraging because it was another voice saying, “The season you’re in is just that--a season.” Which resonates with me. A couple weeks ago, I was killing myself in the heat, staring at a massive wall of Pepsi 12-packs I needed to unload, praying, and I suddenly thought, “When God moves me on, I’m going to miss this time.” I’ll probably look back on this period of my life as one of the sweetest, even though it’s been hard.
In January, Pepsi officials told us their goal for drivers was an average of 450 cases and 14 stops for a day’s load in summertime. Ten or eleven hour day. Yesterday I had 27 stops, 500 cases. It took fourteen hours before the truck was empty. Back at the plant, I glanced at the load sheet for today: 566 cases.
I was so delirious when I finally clocked out last night at 8 P.M. I’d been up late on Wednesday for the men’s group, so I was really looking forward to some rest. But when I got to my car, the right rear tire was flat.
Funny thing, though. In spite of the process, I was joyful. I was just conscious of God’s closeness all day yesterday, and nothing I encountered really riled me--not even having to change a tire at the point of greatest weariness.
For the second night in a row, I didn’t get to sleep last night until 10:30. I just have to make it through today and then I can rest a little. I am striving to enter God’s rest.
There remains therefore a rest for the people of God. For he who has entered His rest has himself also ceased from his works as God did from His. Let us therefore be diligent to enter that rest, lest anyone fall according to the same example of disobedience. Hebrews 4:9-11
After the meeting, Joel K came up to me to tell me he thought the Lord had given him a message intended for me. In a nutshell he said he believed God said that He’s going to bring me into a job that I like, that provides for my family, and that allows me to move more in my ministry. It was encouraging because it was another voice saying, “The season you’re in is just that--a season.” Which resonates with me. A couple weeks ago, I was killing myself in the heat, staring at a massive wall of Pepsi 12-packs I needed to unload, praying, and I suddenly thought, “When God moves me on, I’m going to miss this time.” I’ll probably look back on this period of my life as one of the sweetest, even though it’s been hard.
In January, Pepsi officials told us their goal for drivers was an average of 450 cases and 14 stops for a day’s load in summertime. Ten or eleven hour day. Yesterday I had 27 stops, 500 cases. It took fourteen hours before the truck was empty. Back at the plant, I glanced at the load sheet for today: 566 cases.
I was so delirious when I finally clocked out last night at 8 P.M. I’d been up late on Wednesday for the men’s group, so I was really looking forward to some rest. But when I got to my car, the right rear tire was flat.
Funny thing, though. In spite of the process, I was joyful. I was just conscious of God’s closeness all day yesterday, and nothing I encountered really riled me--not even having to change a tire at the point of greatest weariness.
For the second night in a row, I didn’t get to sleep last night until 10:30. I just have to make it through today and then I can rest a little. I am striving to enter God’s rest.
There remains therefore a rest for the people of God. For he who has entered His rest has himself also ceased from his works as God did from His. Let us therefore be diligent to enter that rest, lest anyone fall according to the same example of disobedience. Hebrews 4:9-11
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Kyrie Eleison
A few posts back in my post about The Call in Nashville, which was held on 7/7/07, Sarah left a comment that she was holding out for 8/8/08. I laughed, because it was obviously a joke. But guess what? I heard in church today that something's actually being planned for 8/8/08.
I leaned over and whispered in Jessica's ear, "Jizzamn. How long can this go on?" (Even though I know the answer is "Forever and ever, world without end.")
She said, "Well, they can't do anything with the numbers in 2013."
Light at the end of the tunnel, I thought. But watch them find a way.
I leaned over and whispered in Jessica's ear, "Jizzamn. How long can this go on?" (Even though I know the answer is "Forever and ever, world without end.")
She said, "Well, they can't do anything with the numbers in 2013."
Light at the end of the tunnel, I thought. But watch them find a way.
Sunday, July 15, 2007, 8 A.M.
The work week was butchery. Because we’re down six drivers, Pepsi is heaping extra stops and cases on those of us who remain. For me, that translates to several additional stops in Salisbury on most days. And even with 12-14 hours on the clock, going as fast as I can, I’ve still been one of the lightest-loaded trucks. This coming week we’ll be down two more drivers: one has quit and the other will be on vacation.
For three months now I’ve been writing on my daily driver’s report that my truck needs a new starter. For three months the maintenance guys ignored the message; one even said he checked the starter and couldn’t find anything wrong with it. On Friday the truck finally died and left me stranded behind Bridgeville’s Fire Hall. I had to sit and wait over an hour for TC, the maintenance dude, to come out and help me get the engine started.
Once the truck was running, I asked him, “So, what was it? A loose wire or something?”
He mumbled.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“We’re probably gonna have to put a new starter in her,” he said.
“No way,” I said. Boy, was I shocked. I called my boss right away to tell him how on-the-ball the maintenance guys are. “Pepsi is running a well-oiled machine here, that’s for damn sure,” I said. "Next time this happens, I'm going to shit in this truck, leave it right where it is, and go home."
"Please don't do that," he said. But I made no promises.
After I’d blown some sarcasm, I made my last five stops and finished my route, finally clocking out around 7:30.
I wish Jessica would have the baby so I could take a week off. Yeah, a baby disrupts your life and all, but a baby ain’t heavy.
Yesterday I felt pretty wasted by life and just sat on my ass, doing nothing. The pastor interrupted my zen laziness when he phoned and inquired about the men’s meetings. I told him some of the stuff we’d talked about and he told me to be careful “we don’t get a critical spirit.” Which is probably good advice, but which I also don’t understand. Maybe an advantage to pretense is that you can also be considered uncritical?
I understand where he’s coming from, I think. I’ve seen church splits, divisions, and denominations. I’ve heard the news from Iraq.
Group A gets dissatisfied with how things are going. They express their concerns to Group B. Group B says, “What the hell’s wrong with you? Everything’s great!” Group A gets stomped, silenced, pushed out, or murdered; so they go across town and start a new church or country or whatever.
Well, bleh. My name’s not Absalom. Leading any kind of rebellion is not my forte, not my interest. All I want to do is sit and play video games with my son, truth be told. I never wanted to lead a men’s group in the first place. I never wanted to be honest.
It’s what I got forced into. By God. I didn’t want to be part of a men’s group, but I needed to be a part of one, or at least to have meaningful connection with brothers.
My assessment of the thing so far is that some guys are encouraged and have appreciated the opportunity to share more of themselves, and others feel threatened by the experience because it has potential to really shake things up in their lives and in the church.
But I don’t want to cause problems with my critical spirit. I could just sit in a dark corner eating gummi worms, watching the show and praying for a miracle: for the church to somehow get out of the way and let Jesus through the freaking door.
I’ve always been disheartened and dissatisfied with the “church experience.” Poor Jessica has gotten an earful almost every week I’ve gone to church for ten years now. She says she thinks a lot of the inner tension I feel regarding church is from the Lord, but I don’t know.
I don’t know anything. That’s the problem. I only know what’s painful. I want to avoid pain. Church is often painful because it feels like we’re all puppetmasters trying to get the dry bones to look like flesh, and the flesh to look like spirit.
What’s God’s angle here, man? I was telling Jessica yesterday that the only reason we’re staying in this area is because of the church. I’d really like to move to North Carolina and be near my mother, brother and sister. My family. Drivers are in demand, and I could get a dead-end job like I’ve got now anywhere in the country, especially in North Carolina.
But God keeps me here. He’s set me in the church. Why?
Anyway, enough of that. Yesterday while I was sitting around doing nothing, I did one thing at least. I finished an excellent book called Messy Spirituality, by Michael Yaconelli. Don G loaned it to me last Sunday, and it was profound in its simplicity. I read good portions of it out loud to Jessica while she was cooking and washing dishes and we both blubbered and snotted because the grace of God is so amazing, unfair, irresistible, dogged, and awe-inspiring. He loves us, and He never stops.
I will close to pray for grace to embrace His will today.
For three months now I’ve been writing on my daily driver’s report that my truck needs a new starter. For three months the maintenance guys ignored the message; one even said he checked the starter and couldn’t find anything wrong with it. On Friday the truck finally died and left me stranded behind Bridgeville’s Fire Hall. I had to sit and wait over an hour for TC, the maintenance dude, to come out and help me get the engine started.
Once the truck was running, I asked him, “So, what was it? A loose wire or something?”
He mumbled.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“We’re probably gonna have to put a new starter in her,” he said.
“No way,” I said. Boy, was I shocked. I called my boss right away to tell him how on-the-ball the maintenance guys are. “Pepsi is running a well-oiled machine here, that’s for damn sure,” I said. "Next time this happens, I'm going to shit in this truck, leave it right where it is, and go home."
"Please don't do that," he said. But I made no promises.
After I’d blown some sarcasm, I made my last five stops and finished my route, finally clocking out around 7:30.
I wish Jessica would have the baby so I could take a week off. Yeah, a baby disrupts your life and all, but a baby ain’t heavy.
Yesterday I felt pretty wasted by life and just sat on my ass, doing nothing. The pastor interrupted my zen laziness when he phoned and inquired about the men’s meetings. I told him some of the stuff we’d talked about and he told me to be careful “we don’t get a critical spirit.” Which is probably good advice, but which I also don’t understand. Maybe an advantage to pretense is that you can also be considered uncritical?
I understand where he’s coming from, I think. I’ve seen church splits, divisions, and denominations. I’ve heard the news from Iraq.
Group A gets dissatisfied with how things are going. They express their concerns to Group B. Group B says, “What the hell’s wrong with you? Everything’s great!” Group A gets stomped, silenced, pushed out, or murdered; so they go across town and start a new church or country or whatever.
Well, bleh. My name’s not Absalom. Leading any kind of rebellion is not my forte, not my interest. All I want to do is sit and play video games with my son, truth be told. I never wanted to lead a men’s group in the first place. I never wanted to be honest.
It’s what I got forced into. By God. I didn’t want to be part of a men’s group, but I needed to be a part of one, or at least to have meaningful connection with brothers.
My assessment of the thing so far is that some guys are encouraged and have appreciated the opportunity to share more of themselves, and others feel threatened by the experience because it has potential to really shake things up in their lives and in the church.
But I don’t want to cause problems with my critical spirit. I could just sit in a dark corner eating gummi worms, watching the show and praying for a miracle: for the church to somehow get out of the way and let Jesus through the freaking door.
I’ve always been disheartened and dissatisfied with the “church experience.” Poor Jessica has gotten an earful almost every week I’ve gone to church for ten years now. She says she thinks a lot of the inner tension I feel regarding church is from the Lord, but I don’t know.
I don’t know anything. That’s the problem. I only know what’s painful. I want to avoid pain. Church is often painful because it feels like we’re all puppetmasters trying to get the dry bones to look like flesh, and the flesh to look like spirit.
What’s God’s angle here, man? I was telling Jessica yesterday that the only reason we’re staying in this area is because of the church. I’d really like to move to North Carolina and be near my mother, brother and sister. My family. Drivers are in demand, and I could get a dead-end job like I’ve got now anywhere in the country, especially in North Carolina.
But God keeps me here. He’s set me in the church. Why?
Anyway, enough of that. Yesterday while I was sitting around doing nothing, I did one thing at least. I finished an excellent book called Messy Spirituality, by Michael Yaconelli. Don G loaned it to me last Sunday, and it was profound in its simplicity. I read good portions of it out loud to Jessica while she was cooking and washing dishes and we both blubbered and snotted because the grace of God is so amazing, unfair, irresistible, dogged, and awe-inspiring. He loves us, and He never stops.
I will close to pray for grace to embrace His will today.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Monday, July 09, 2007
Monday, July 9, 2007, 8:15 P.M.
I got off work at 3 P.M. and came home in time for Jessica to go to her ladies’ meeting at the church. (She got home around 7:45--ugh.)
I made an early dinner and talked with the kids. They went to Lewes Beach today with Jessica and her mother. I wasted some time this afternoon surfing journals and playing games and generally avoiding myself before I finally shut the computer off and prayed for a while. I feel so desperate in my spirit lately, desperate in prayer, as if I’m living one long sigh. A few times today I’ve felt almost on the verge of panic, just a rising anguish in my soul.
For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them. Ephesians 2:10
Woe to the one who quarrels with his Maker–-an earthenware vessel among the vessels of earth! Will the clay say to the potter, “What are you doing?” Or the thing you are making say, “He has no hands ?” Isaiah 45:9
I did the dishes and listened to the Benedictine monks of Santo Domingo de Silos. Gregorian song is the oldest surviving music in the Church, dating back to the 11th century. I hear that music and to me it sounds like faith: calm, resolute, unified, worshipful, awestruck voices. Simple. Nothing like it seems to be produced anymore in the Church--nothing that serene or contemplative, nothing so “at rest.”
Today’s worship leaders are rock stars. You have to pay to see them do their thing. True spiritual inspiration has been replaced by appeals to the soul and the flesh.
* * * * *
“Enoch walked with God, and he was not.”
The pressure I’m feeling is from Him. The circumstances are from Him. The “good works” are His.
“He must increase, but I must decrease.”
I made an early dinner and talked with the kids. They went to Lewes Beach today with Jessica and her mother. I wasted some time this afternoon surfing journals and playing games and generally avoiding myself before I finally shut the computer off and prayed for a while. I feel so desperate in my spirit lately, desperate in prayer, as if I’m living one long sigh. A few times today I’ve felt almost on the verge of panic, just a rising anguish in my soul.
For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them. Ephesians 2:10
Woe to the one who quarrels with his Maker–-an earthenware vessel among the vessels of earth! Will the clay say to the potter, “What are you doing?” Or the thing you are making say, “He has no hands ?” Isaiah 45:9
I did the dishes and listened to the Benedictine monks of Santo Domingo de Silos. Gregorian song is the oldest surviving music in the Church, dating back to the 11th century. I hear that music and to me it sounds like faith: calm, resolute, unified, worshipful, awestruck voices. Simple. Nothing like it seems to be produced anymore in the Church--nothing that serene or contemplative, nothing so “at rest.”
Today’s worship leaders are rock stars. You have to pay to see them do their thing. True spiritual inspiration has been replaced by appeals to the soul and the flesh.
* * * * *
“Enoch walked with God, and he was not.”
The pressure I’m feeling is from Him. The circumstances are from Him. The “good works” are His.
“He must increase, but I must decrease.”
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Fusstration & Random Notes
I can no longer doodle in church because my wife gets laughing so hard at my designs that she fears incontinence in her pregnant state. So now I crouch over secret notes, noted below in italics.
The Church needs a crisis of truth. [The world really doesn’t need to be prayed for at this point in Church History, contrary to what the Christian parrotheads say. Even Jesus had his limits when it came to the world. Jesus had His priorities right: John 17:9.]
Those who seek satisfaction outside of God and His will deserve to be punished by not finding it. [Not sure where this came from...de Caussade, mayhaps?]
*** “FUSSTRATION” *** [The speaker couldn’t say “frustrated;” I like “fusstration” better anyway. My greatest fusstration right now is determining how much to say, and when, and to whom.]
I go to church and my eyes are assaulted by a tall brunette, her T&A near bursting out of a tight black package and “fuck me” heels, delirious with new and unrestrained power that's blossomed along with her curves. Thank You God for the gift of astigmatism.[I took my glasses off. I’m SO spiritual.]
“God’s not after perfection, He’s after what we can do for Him.”[AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!]
Good-intentioned, mindless contradiction. Is this the Word?
The Church needs a crisis of truth. [The world really doesn’t need to be prayed for at this point in Church History, contrary to what the Christian parrotheads say. Even Jesus had his limits when it came to the world. Jesus had His priorities right: John 17:9.]
Those who seek satisfaction outside of God and His will deserve to be punished by not finding it. [Not sure where this came from...de Caussade, mayhaps?]
*** “FUSSTRATION” *** [The speaker couldn’t say “frustrated;” I like “fusstration” better anyway. My greatest fusstration right now is determining how much to say, and when, and to whom.]
I go to church and my eyes are assaulted by a tall brunette, her T&A near bursting out of a tight black package and “fuck me” heels, delirious with new and unrestrained power that's blossomed along with her curves. Thank You God for the gift of astigmatism.[I took my glasses off. I’m SO spiritual.]
“God’s not after perfection, He’s after what we can do for Him.”[AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!]
Good-intentioned, mindless contradiction. Is this the Word?
Faith Adores the Divine Will (de Caussade)
The reign of faith is death to the senses; it is their spoliation, their destruction. The senses worship creatures; faith adores the divine will. Destroy the idols of the senses and they will rebel and lament, but faith must triumph because the will of God is indestructible. When the senses are terrified, or famished, despoiled, or crushed, then it is that faith is nourished, enriched and enlivened. Faith laughs at these calamities as a governor of an impregnable fortress laughs at the useless attacks of an impotent foe. When a soul recognises the will of God and shows a readiness to submit to it entirely, then God gives Himself to such a soul and renders it most powerful succour under all circumstances. Thus it experiences a great happiness in this coming of God, and enjoys it the more, the more it has learnt to abandon itself at every moment to His adorable will.
I delight to do Your will, O my God; Your Law is within my heart. Psalm 40:8
Jesus said to them, "My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work." John 4:34
For they exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever. Romans 1:25
* * * * *
I spent many years in the sensuous idolatry of worshiping the female form. In my own heart I erected shrines to Aphrodite, a modern-day Asherah pole in the high places of my thoughts and affections.
This morning I found a journal on Journalspace where the owner, a very beautiful and intelligent woman, a lawyer, posted several pictures of herself in short skirts and high heels. I looked for a few moments, feeling an old ache in my soul, a flooding desire to possess her. I hit Alt+F4 and asked God to help me, and I remembered a sentence from Abandonment to Divine Providence that struck me when I read it a few days ago: “The senses worship creatures; faith adores the divine will.”
When that old lust rises up, that strong desire to possess and indulge, I try to remember that in the end it possesses me. The old gods are always clamoring to take me away in chains, seeking their pound of flesh. The siren’s song is always very near. But the grace of God is closer.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies... Psalm 23:5
I delight to do Your will, O my God; Your Law is within my heart. Psalm 40:8
Jesus said to them, "My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work." John 4:34
For they exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever. Romans 1:25
* * * * *
I spent many years in the sensuous idolatry of worshiping the female form. In my own heart I erected shrines to Aphrodite, a modern-day Asherah pole in the high places of my thoughts and affections.
This morning I found a journal on Journalspace where the owner, a very beautiful and intelligent woman, a lawyer, posted several pictures of herself in short skirts and high heels. I looked for a few moments, feeling an old ache in my soul, a flooding desire to possess her. I hit Alt+F4 and asked God to help me, and I remembered a sentence from Abandonment to Divine Providence that struck me when I read it a few days ago: “The senses worship creatures; faith adores the divine will.”
When that old lust rises up, that strong desire to possess and indulge, I try to remember that in the end it possesses me. The old gods are always clamoring to take me away in chains, seeking their pound of flesh. The siren’s song is always very near. But the grace of God is closer.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies... Psalm 23:5
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Go To The Call, Thou Sluggard
Well, here it is. Seven-seven-oh-seven. Let every good Christian fast seven days, march around the country seven times, and toot on a ram’s horn seventy-seven times. Maybe we’ll finally wake God up.
Having a God who’s slow and deaf is such a pain in the bahakas, don’t you think? That’s what the prophets of Baal decided just before Elijah hacked their heads off. And in the American church, we’ve arrived at something similar. El-Olam, the everlasting God who created all the universe has somehow become like us: a dull old croaker, impossible to rouse.
"You thought that I was just like you..." Psalm 50:21
You guys go ahead. Fast, I tell you. Flagellate yourselves. Shun your meats and sweets, your pork chops and cheesecakes. Yeah, verily, behold: ‘tis a good repose from the untold years you’ve glutted those bodies and sullied those minds. Go on, now.
I’ll be right over here, praying and watching, munching on steak and gummi worms.
Once we’ve wearied ourselves of being busy spiritual supermen we may finally hear the still small voice, together.
I spent this all-important cosmic day chatting on the phone with DG and my sister, playing a video game with my son, and making my wife laugh so hard her pregnant belly nearly exploded. Tonight we’re going to Perdue stadium to watch the Shorebirds and see some fireworks. I’ll stay up till midnight so I can stumble into church tomorrow, unwashed and fifteen minutes late.
Having a God who’s slow and deaf is such a pain in the bahakas, don’t you think? That’s what the prophets of Baal decided just before Elijah hacked their heads off. And in the American church, we’ve arrived at something similar. El-Olam, the everlasting God who created all the universe has somehow become like us: a dull old croaker, impossible to rouse.
"You thought that I was just like you..." Psalm 50:21
You guys go ahead. Fast, I tell you. Flagellate yourselves. Shun your meats and sweets, your pork chops and cheesecakes. Yeah, verily, behold: ‘tis a good repose from the untold years you’ve glutted those bodies and sullied those minds. Go on, now.
I’ll be right over here, praying and watching, munching on steak and gummi worms.
Once we’ve wearied ourselves of being busy spiritual supermen we may finally hear the still small voice, together.
I spent this all-important cosmic day chatting on the phone with DG and my sister, playing a video game with my son, and making my wife laugh so hard her pregnant belly nearly exploded. Tonight we’re going to Perdue stadium to watch the Shorebirds and see some fireworks. I’ll stay up till midnight so I can stumble into church tomorrow, unwashed and fifteen minutes late.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Let Me Know You in the Now
And behold, a voice out of the heavens, saying, “This is My Son, the Beloved, in whom I am well-pleased.” (Matthew 3:17 NASB)
This affirming word to Jesus comes from His Father before He actually does much in terms of all the amazing things that lie ahead with His earthly ministry. At the outset the Father is already pleased with Him.
Why so? What was He doing up till this time that was so wonderful, so pleasing?
Eating, drinking, working, bustling around in the carpenter shop, being a son and an older brother to Mary’s other children, chatting with friends, reading, learning, praying, laughing at jokes, making jokes, weeping when He suffered heartaches like when Joseph died, sleeping, bathing, going to synagogue (church), going to the bathroom. Emmanuel. God residing in man’s fragile frame. In short, being alive. Mundane, normal, unknown.
Everyman.
Jesus spent 90 percent of His earthly life learning how to live in circumstances that were just as humbling, boring, joyous, tragic, and altogether human as ours. He learned to live a wholly sanctified existence, to live for the pleasure of the Father whether He was chewing at a hangnail or contemplating the eternal Word.
It was all the same to Him, and it was established before He set even one calloused foot into the muddy Jordan to be baptized by John the Baptist and “fulfill all righteousness.”
It’s not flashy spiritual stuff that makes a godly man. It’s not miracles and prophecies and teaching. It’s not a martyr’s death.
It’s learning to live. It’s being alive to God in what Jean-Pierre de Caussade called “the Sacrament of the Present Moment,” and what Michael Card mused as a prayer, “Let me know You in the Now.”
Father help me, Your little tottering child, to walk as You do.
This affirming word to Jesus comes from His Father before He actually does much in terms of all the amazing things that lie ahead with His earthly ministry. At the outset the Father is already pleased with Him.
Why so? What was He doing up till this time that was so wonderful, so pleasing?
Eating, drinking, working, bustling around in the carpenter shop, being a son and an older brother to Mary’s other children, chatting with friends, reading, learning, praying, laughing at jokes, making jokes, weeping when He suffered heartaches like when Joseph died, sleeping, bathing, going to synagogue (church), going to the bathroom. Emmanuel. God residing in man’s fragile frame. In short, being alive. Mundane, normal, unknown.
Everyman.
Jesus spent 90 percent of His earthly life learning how to live in circumstances that were just as humbling, boring, joyous, tragic, and altogether human as ours. He learned to live a wholly sanctified existence, to live for the pleasure of the Father whether He was chewing at a hangnail or contemplating the eternal Word.
It was all the same to Him, and it was established before He set even one calloused foot into the muddy Jordan to be baptized by John the Baptist and “fulfill all righteousness.”
It’s not flashy spiritual stuff that makes a godly man. It’s not miracles and prophecies and teaching. It’s not a martyr’s death.
It’s learning to live. It’s being alive to God in what Jean-Pierre de Caussade called “the Sacrament of the Present Moment,” and what Michael Card mused as a prayer, “Let me know You in the Now.”
Father help me, Your little tottering child, to walk as You do.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
In What Perfection Consists (de Caussade)
The designs of God, the good pleasure of God, the will of God, the operation of God and the gift of His grace are all one and the same thing in the spiritual life. It is God working in the soul to make it like unto Himself. Perfection is neither more nor less than the faithful co-operation of the soul with this work of God, and is begun, grows, and is consummated in the soul unperceived and in secret. The science of theology is full of theories and explanations of the wonders of this state in each soul according to its capacity. One may be conversant with all these speculations, speak and write about them admirably, instruct others and guide souls; yet, if these theories are only in the mind, one is, compared with those who, without any knowledge of these theories, receive the meaning of the designs of God and do His holy will, like a sick physician compared to simple people in perfect health. The designs of God and his divine will accepted by a faithful soul with simplicity produces this divine state in it without its knowledge, just as a medicine taken obediently will produce health, although the sick person neither knows nor wishes to know anything about medicine. As fire gives out heat, and not philosophical discussions about it, nor knowledge of its effects, so the designs of God and His holy will work in the soul for its sanctification, and not speculations of curiosity as to this principle and this state. When one is thirsty one quenches one’s thirst by drinking, not by reading books which treat of this condition. The desire to know does but increase this thirst. Therefore when one thirsts after sanctity, the desire to know about it only drives it further away. Speculation must be laid aside, and everything arranged by God as regards actions and sufferings must be accepted with simplicity, for those things that happen at each moment by the divine command or permission are always the most holy, the best and the most divine for us.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Seven Random Points from a French Catholic
These are a few summations from a book by Jean-Pierre de Caussade, a Jesuit ascetic writer who died in 1751. The book is called Abandonment to Divine Providence; I first heard about it from an article in Christian History magazine. I’ve read some of it online at www.ccel.org, but I’m thinking I might like to own a copy next time I have a few bucks to blow at Amazon.com. All of it is thought-provoking and some of it even shocks me. (Point 3, for instance.)
1. We must put all speculation aside and with childlike willingness accept all that God presents to us.
2. What God arranges for us to experience at each moment is the best and holiest thing that could happen to us.
3. Any soul which has once and for all completely submitted itself to God should always interpret everything favorably.
4. There is absolutely nothing that gives more peace or does more to make us holy than obeying the Will of God. [The text implies that understanding God’s Will isn't necessary.]
5. If we see the Will of God in the most trifling affairs, in every misfortune, and in every disaster, we shall accept them all with an equal joy, delight and respect.
6. We must completely forget ourselves so that we regard ourselves as an object which has been sold and over which we no longer have any right. Once we have this foundation all we need to do is spend our lives rejoicing that God is God and being so wholly abandoned to his Will that we are quite indifferent as to what we do and equally indifferent as to what use he makes of our activities.
7. It is really useless to become agitated, for all that happens to us is like a dream. Shadowy images come and go and dreams passing through our sleeping mind give us both pain and pleasure. Our soul is the plaything of these phantoms, but when we awaken we know at once that they have not really affected it.
1. We must put all speculation aside and with childlike willingness accept all that God presents to us.
2. What God arranges for us to experience at each moment is the best and holiest thing that could happen to us.
3. Any soul which has once and for all completely submitted itself to God should always interpret everything favorably.
4. There is absolutely nothing that gives more peace or does more to make us holy than obeying the Will of God. [The text implies that understanding God’s Will isn't necessary.]
5. If we see the Will of God in the most trifling affairs, in every misfortune, and in every disaster, we shall accept them all with an equal joy, delight and respect.
6. We must completely forget ourselves so that we regard ourselves as an object which has been sold and over which we no longer have any right. Once we have this foundation all we need to do is spend our lives rejoicing that God is God and being so wholly abandoned to his Will that we are quite indifferent as to what we do and equally indifferent as to what use he makes of our activities.
7. It is really useless to become agitated, for all that happens to us is like a dream. Shadowy images come and go and dreams passing through our sleeping mind give us both pain and pleasure. Our soul is the plaything of these phantoms, but when we awaken we know at once that they have not really affected it.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Monday, July 2, 2007, 4:45 A.M.
Yesterday I stayed after church awhile chatting with TK; to my surprise, he initiated the conversation. Also to my surprise, he let his guard down a little and shared some real stuff with me. I told him about my frustration with so much of what’s going on in the church, about things like The Call in Nashville and the fact that we–-the church at large–-seem to have our wheels stuck in a spiritual ditch. I tried to explain the sense of emptiness I feel with church.
I was thinking this past week of how the disciples were with Jesus for just 3 or 4 years before they were totally released into ministry, from fishers and publicans to apostles. Not that they had become perfect, or had “arrived,” but He considered them able to teach others and transmit the word of Christ, the word of salvation, after a very brief period of time.
“Yeah, but Jesus was actually present with them,” said TK after I shared that thought.
I understood what he meant, but then I thought of Paul after his conversion. Paul also spent three years learning to hear the voice of God in the quietness of a desert place.
But when God, who had set me apart even from my mother's womb and called me through His grace, was pleased to reveal His Son in me so that I might preach Him among the Gentiles, I did not immediately consult with flesh and blood, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were apostles before me; but I went away to Arabia, and returned once more to Damascus. Then three years later I went up to Jerusalem to become acquainted with Cephas, and stayed with him fifteen days. (Galatians 1:15-18)
The physical presence of Jesus shouldn’t make a difference. He has given us the Holy Spirit to teach us all things, to lead us into all truth. So the natural question, when I’m looking around at all these faces I’ve seen in church for ten, fifteen, twenty years is, why are we still spiritual babies? Why aren’t we progressing beyond the elemental things? Why are we perpetually stuck in the introspective, woe-is-me-I-am-undone spiritual atmosphere that constitutes the foundational beginning of a walk with God? What’s the missing piece here?
Concerning him we have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing. For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you have need again for someone to teach you the elementary principles of the oracles of God, and you have come to need milk and not solid food. For everyone who partakes only of milk is not accustomed to the word of righteousness, for he is an infant. But solid food is for the mature, who because of practice have their senses trained to discern good and evil. (Hebrews 5:11-14)
TK said he thinks everyone in the church is frustrated, just as I am.
“If that’s true, how come no one’s talking about it?” I asked.
We watched a movie about the life of Martin Luther yesterday afternoon and I was reminded of why I’ve always identified with him, with the anguish of his search to know God and possess truth.
I want to take the next step. We need direction. We need to hear. I am expectant.
“You have circled this mountain long enough. Now turn north.” (Deuteronomy 2:3)
I was thinking this past week of how the disciples were with Jesus for just 3 or 4 years before they were totally released into ministry, from fishers and publicans to apostles. Not that they had become perfect, or had “arrived,” but He considered them able to teach others and transmit the word of Christ, the word of salvation, after a very brief period of time.
“Yeah, but Jesus was actually present with them,” said TK after I shared that thought.
I understood what he meant, but then I thought of Paul after his conversion. Paul also spent three years learning to hear the voice of God in the quietness of a desert place.
But when God, who had set me apart even from my mother's womb and called me through His grace, was pleased to reveal His Son in me so that I might preach Him among the Gentiles, I did not immediately consult with flesh and blood, nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were apostles before me; but I went away to Arabia, and returned once more to Damascus. Then three years later I went up to Jerusalem to become acquainted with Cephas, and stayed with him fifteen days. (Galatians 1:15-18)
The physical presence of Jesus shouldn’t make a difference. He has given us the Holy Spirit to teach us all things, to lead us into all truth. So the natural question, when I’m looking around at all these faces I’ve seen in church for ten, fifteen, twenty years is, why are we still spiritual babies? Why aren’t we progressing beyond the elemental things? Why are we perpetually stuck in the introspective, woe-is-me-I-am-undone spiritual atmosphere that constitutes the foundational beginning of a walk with God? What’s the missing piece here?
Concerning him we have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing. For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you have need again for someone to teach you the elementary principles of the oracles of God, and you have come to need milk and not solid food. For everyone who partakes only of milk is not accustomed to the word of righteousness, for he is an infant. But solid food is for the mature, who because of practice have their senses trained to discern good and evil. (Hebrews 5:11-14)
TK said he thinks everyone in the church is frustrated, just as I am.
“If that’s true, how come no one’s talking about it?” I asked.
We watched a movie about the life of Martin Luther yesterday afternoon and I was reminded of why I’ve always identified with him, with the anguish of his search to know God and possess truth.
I want to take the next step. We need direction. We need to hear. I am expectant.
“You have circled this mountain long enough. Now turn north.” (Deuteronomy 2:3)
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Sunday, July 1, 2007, 9:18 A.M.
“Now in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was tetrarch of Galilee, and his brother Philip was tetrarch of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias was tetrarch of Abilene, in the high priesthood of Annas and Caiphas, the word of God came to John, the son of Zacharias, in the wilderness.” Luke 3:1, 2
After a list of qualified rulers and educated ministers, the word of God arrives in the heart of an unknown in a desert place. And it isn’t the first time this happens in Scripture (“Samuel, Samuel!”), or in history recorded since (Martin Luther).
My pastor asked me about the origin of the spoken message I delivered last week, wondering if maybe something he said prompted the thing. “No,” I said, “the truth is I sat down in a huff when the worship leader started his spiel about praying for America and the world and everything. I was frustrated, asking God to help me and somehow, miraculously, to break through upon His people. When I shut up, I heard.”
He listened, and then started talking out the experience as he thought about it, about hearing the voice of God when we’re angry and dissatisfied; in other words, when we haven’t “prepared our hearts” according to normal expectations. Finally, he said, “So there are times where, by not participating, we are in a better place to hear the voice of the Lord.”
I was glad when our conversation was interrupted because it was getting uncomfortable. Light was dawning, and it was freaking me out (him too, I think), because the implication is that all the normal “fluff stuff” we do in church might actually be getting in the way of our spiritual receptivity. Maybe we need to get a little stranger in how we live, take a step back. Maybe what we need is to become “a voice of one crying in the wilderness.”
* * *
Wednesday morning I was feeling rather worn down by my job. I work for the only local beverage company that doesn’t hire summertime helpers for the drivers. Most companies do so to alleviate some of the stress drivers are under in the busier summer months, and to help avoid fatigue and injuries. The company I work for chooses to save a few dollars by not hiring helpers. (It costs them more in the long run, but like many corporations, they’re penny wise and dollar stupid.)
Anyway, I wasn’t actively thinking about it, but in my soul I am often troubled by where God has placed me. Wednesday morning, I came to these lines in Psalm 30:
What profit is there in my blood, if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise You? Will it declare Your faithfulness?
Hear, O LORD, and be gracious to me;
O LORD, be my helper.
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness,
That my soul may sing praise to You and not be silent
O LORD my God, I will give thanks to You forever.
“Oh LORD, be my helper.” I read it and laughed out loud, it seemed so ridiculous.
But all week long it was an encouragement and a prayer on my lips. It struck my spirit like an unexpected note from a lover. Just God reminding me, “I know you. I know where you are. I’m with you. I want to be your Comforter, your Paracletos, the One who’s alongside you, yoked with you. Enjoy the relationship and leave the circumstances to Me.”
After a list of qualified rulers and educated ministers, the word of God arrives in the heart of an unknown in a desert place. And it isn’t the first time this happens in Scripture (“Samuel, Samuel!”), or in history recorded since (Martin Luther).
My pastor asked me about the origin of the spoken message I delivered last week, wondering if maybe something he said prompted the thing. “No,” I said, “the truth is I sat down in a huff when the worship leader started his spiel about praying for America and the world and everything. I was frustrated, asking God to help me and somehow, miraculously, to break through upon His people. When I shut up, I heard.”
He listened, and then started talking out the experience as he thought about it, about hearing the voice of God when we’re angry and dissatisfied; in other words, when we haven’t “prepared our hearts” according to normal expectations. Finally, he said, “So there are times where, by not participating, we are in a better place to hear the voice of the Lord.”
I was glad when our conversation was interrupted because it was getting uncomfortable. Light was dawning, and it was freaking me out (him too, I think), because the implication is that all the normal “fluff stuff” we do in church might actually be getting in the way of our spiritual receptivity. Maybe we need to get a little stranger in how we live, take a step back. Maybe what we need is to become “a voice of one crying in the wilderness.”
* * *
Wednesday morning I was feeling rather worn down by my job. I work for the only local beverage company that doesn’t hire summertime helpers for the drivers. Most companies do so to alleviate some of the stress drivers are under in the busier summer months, and to help avoid fatigue and injuries. The company I work for chooses to save a few dollars by not hiring helpers. (It costs them more in the long run, but like many corporations, they’re penny wise and dollar stupid.)
Anyway, I wasn’t actively thinking about it, but in my soul I am often troubled by where God has placed me. Wednesday morning, I came to these lines in Psalm 30:
What profit is there in my blood, if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise You? Will it declare Your faithfulness?
Hear, O LORD, and be gracious to me;
O LORD, be my helper.
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
You have loosed my sackcloth and girded me with gladness,
That my soul may sing praise to You and not be silent
O LORD my God, I will give thanks to You forever.
“Oh LORD, be my helper.” I read it and laughed out loud, it seemed so ridiculous.
But all week long it was an encouragement and a prayer on my lips. It struck my spirit like an unexpected note from a lover. Just God reminding me, “I know you. I know where you are. I’m with you. I want to be your Comforter, your Paracletos, the One who’s alongside you, yoked with you. Enjoy the relationship and leave the circumstances to Me.”
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